


Those Were The Days

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Going Home, M/M, Musain, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras lost his faith in the people soon before leaving for London, leaving his old friends behind. Now, ten years after leaving and with his old beliefs finally starting to regrow, he comes back to visit, drawn instantly to the bar where he spent so much time with his friends, one friend inparticular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Were The Days

_**Once upon a time there was a tavern** _   
_**Where we used to raise a glass or two** _   
_**Remember how we laughed away the hours  
And dreamed of all the great things we would do...** _

Enjolras didn't know why he'd gone back to the Musain. It had been nearly ten years since he'd left his old town for London, but he had felt drawn here since he first got off the train an hour earlier on what was his first visit home since leaving.

A part of him was pleased to see the bar hadn't changed at all. The paint still peeled slightly on the sign and the windows were still as dusty as ever, but most of all the music and laughter from inside seemed the same as all those years ago.

As he stood there Enjolras remembered the last time he'd been there. It was the week before he was due to leave, and both Courfeyrac and Bahorel had insisted on the need for a farewell party. Their group had been regulars since they'd first found the Musain during Freshers Week. It had only been Courfeyrac, Combeferre and himself then, but their trio had quickly grown into the group nicknamed Les Amis by the French barmaid who had grown fond of them.

It was strange, Enjolras mused, how in the last few years before leaving he'd found himself going out alone at nights, normally after a stressful day at work. He had never thought he'd feel at home in a pub but things had changed as the years passed. And no matter how often he only intended to get one drink, if Grantaire was occupying his usual corner it never happened. Enjolras always ended up joining him and talking the night away.

Grantaire was the only member of the group to never believe they could make a difference and change anything. Enjolras had been the first to join him in disillusionment after a series of failed protests resulting in almost a month locked up until his friends could afford bail. Enjolras losing his faith in the people had come as a shock to all who knew him and had worked to alienate him from the majority of his friends, though some had followed him not long after. It had, however, brought him closer to Grantaire. During their chats they would still debate politics, but never to the same passion as before. Instead they would stick to simpler topics, such as Grantaire's work as an artist or Enjolras's as a lawyer, or occasionally even just what they'd watched on TV the night before.

Now though, fifteen years after giving up, Enjolras was starting to gain faith again. That was partly why he'd come back.

He hesitated. studying his reflection in the window for a moment and wondering when he became so lonely. Enjolras had almost talked himself out of going inside, telling himself it was unlikely that his friends would still be in the same place all these years later, when he heard the familiar laugh that he would never be able to forget, not even if a hundred years passed between hearing it. Moving to stand in the open doorway Enjolras couldn't help but smile at the sight of Grantaire. He hadn't changed much, unlike Enjolras. Enjolras knew he looked every one of his forty-four years, the stress and exhaustion brought by his jobs shown plainly in the lines on his face. Grantaire had been lucky though. Despite the fact he was older than Enjolras by a couple of years he could still have passed for a man in his thirties, his unruly curls and laughter lines by his eyes helping to youthen his look even more.

"Enjolras!" he heard suddenly, the glee with which his name was spoken surprising him, as did the accompanying hug. Grantaire pulled away and held Enjolras at arm's length, studying him with a wide smile on his face. "Damn but it's good to see you again. It's been way too long!"

"It's good to see you too 'Taire," Enjolras replied with a small smile of his own, letting Grantaire draw him into a new hug which he returned this time. "And I've been busy."

"I know. We've been watching your career these past few years, ever since you left law and joined the government. Me and Courf have bets going on when you'll be prime minister. If you don't hurry the heck up, I'm gonna lose." They both laughed.

"Give me a chance, I've only been an MP for a few years."

"And? You've already in the cabinet," Grantaire pointed out. "You're popular in the party. Lamarque will want to retire as PM eventually." He tilted his head to one side. "You know, this new job is good for you. It's a relief to see you believing in something. Your eyes are finally alive again."

"I thought you always considered us stupid to believe," Enjolras said, surprised.

"I thought you foolish, yes, but it was your belief and passion that drew me to you. Now, you go sit down while I buy you a drink, and no arguments about that. The others will be here soon, I texted them as soon as I thought I saw you outside."

"They're all still in town?" Enjolras grinned when Grantaire nodded. "Excellent. It'll be nice to see them all."

Taking a seat at their old table, Enjolras watched Grantaire as he ordered two new drinks and came over to join him. "Thanks." Accepting the beer, he considered his old friend for a moment. "I really did miss you," he admitted softly. "More than anyone else."

He wasn't sure who had moved first, or if they moved together, but before Enjolras fully knew what he'd said his right hand was on the table, resting loosely in Grantaire's left.

"I missed you too," Grantaire told him, eyes locked together and saying far more than either's words had.

The moment was broken by the arrival of their friends but as Enjolras greeted and hugged the crowd now surrounding him he made his plans. It had taken him twenty-five years to realise what he felt for Grantaire. There was no way he was wasting any more time and leaving for London again without asking him out on a date. If need be, he'd simply extend his trip.

As he came to that decision, Enjolras felt himself relax. Now he knew why he had been drawn to the Musain. It had never been for the building or the memories, but for the man who was such an integral part of both.

**_Those were the days my friend_ **   
**_We thought they'd never end_**   
**_We'd sing and dance forever and a day_**   
**_We'd live the life we choose_**   
**_We'd fight and never lose  
_ _Those were the days, oh yes those were the days._**


End file.
